Monthly archives for February, 2013

Hello, everybody. Joe Morella and Frank Segers, your classic movie guys, here to finish what we began in yesterday’s blog. That is, running some of the thoughtful comments we received about James Dean.

As you must know by now, we at Classicmoviechat have had our say (starting with James Dean — really a good actor, Sept. 22, 2011), and much of what was said was not flattering.The comments we are running today serve as a useful counterpoint to our rather critical remarks about the much-remembered actor, who died at just 24 in 1955, after making one of the biggest career splashes in Hollywood history.

We start off with this analysis from Laura:

Yes, his performances in “East of Eden” and “Rebel” seem rather dated. However, Dean added little details to his characters that made them seem more real than performances by Cary Grant, perhaps (whom I adore, but.. let’s face it, he wasn’t a natural or versatile actor).

In “East of Eden” for instance, there is a scene where he and (costar) Julie Harris are in some sort of field and she tells him about her relationship to her father. Look at his reactions. They’re not overly emotional.

But when you look at the scene where his father rejects his money, you see Dean react in a way that seems truly ridiculous compared to performances we are seeing today.

His best performance was in “Giant.” Look at the end where he basically looks like early version of (Marlon) Brando’s godfather. Dean shaved his freaking hair to make it look as if he were balding. THAT is the great actor.

Not all actors back then were willing to go as far as Dean. Of course, shaving one’s hair seems rather cute today where we have actors basically starving themselves for roles. But it was actors like Dean who did it first.

From Anonymous, we received this followup to his earlier missive taking us to task for criticizing Dean:

…..are you guys NUTS? To wit: you want a “rational defense” of his acting ability? A rational defense is a term used by criminal attorneys in a courtroom, not someone discussing an artist’s creative legacy.

But let us not further descend into petty squabbling. I’ll step up to the bench and address the judge. Your Honor, these men know nothing. They are, at best, well informed dilettantes, somewhat akin to extremely clever JEOPARDY contestants who win big cash prizes but whose perceptions of the deeper philosophical implications of the subject at hand is virtually zero.

James Dean was a genius because he was a peerless PIONEER in mining the aspects of The Stanislavsky Method which had revolutionized the art of acting through precisely such tenets as “subtext” and “hidden meaning”….to see that though the illusion of art, all “real life” is a shadowplay of phony surfaces and artificial civilities, and that it is the task of the artist to reveal through either comedic or tragic or tragicomedic fictions all that is repressed, hidden, and emotionally counterfeit within that so-called reality.

Therefore, all truly great artists are dangerous to the status quo; they are then either assimilated through the mechanisms of fame as nothing more than objects of physical desire, or tolerated and sometimes rewarded through their own complacent creative mediocrity and/or timidity.

When they fall into neither category, they are often erased from the public sphere, either through their own self-destructive suffering at the hands of such externally enforced limitations, or often helped along in this suffering by the willful ignorance and indifference of an elitist body of so-called “critics”.

Now, before you accuse me of pretentious long-windedness, here’s the hard evidence, Your Honor. In the screenplay of “East of Eden” there was no indication or description of the character of Cal Trask clutching or desperately trying to hug his father and letting all that money so symbolically cascade down to the floor. The character, rejected, was to merely take the money and angrily walk out the door, go under the tree, and sob silently in the shadows.

In that one instant of an actor’s brilliant insight and capacity to ratchet up the emotional stakes, an entirely new and dangerous explication of naked human pain was born, which gave an entire generation the tools with which to express it’s previously unarticulated feelings toward much larger societal hypocrisies.

A lesser actor would have had neither the courage, the technical ability, the desire, nor the intelligence to take that kind of risk with which he confidently INVENTED something far deeper and unprecedented in the American cinema.

Watch John Derek in (director) Nicholas Ray’s “Run For Cover” shot at the exact same time as “Rebel Without A Cause” by the exact same director in 1955. Same dynamic between an elder father figure and an alienated young man….completely forgettable and unaffecting results.

James Dean was an ACTING genius. I rest my case.

Finishing up our discussion is this relatively succinct note from The LadyEve :

Like so many things, it seems, the question of Dean’s abilities is in the eye of the beholder.

My own opinion is that he didn’t have enough time to truly prove himself. He was barely “blooming” as an actor at the time – what was he, 24, when he died? I don’t know if anyone would disagree that he showed great promise in those first three films, though.

As for “schticky ” Method acting, there was a lot of that going around for a long time once Brando made his name.

As you must know by now, we at Classicmoviechat have had our say about this much-remembered actor (starting with James Dean — really a good actor, Sept. 22, 2011), and much of what was said was not flattering. Here’s a sample:

The pictures that made Dean were three: director Elia Kazan’s “East of Eden,” NicholasRay’s “Rebel Without A Cause” with Natalie Wood (both in 1955) and George Stevens’ “Giant,” released after the actor’s death. Dean was nominated in the best actor Oscar category for the first and the third but didn’t win.

For our money, Rock Hudson walked off with “Giant,” handily out performing costars Elizabeth Taylor and Dean. It was pretty much all Dean’s show in the other two films. Taking a hard nosed look at “Eden” and “Rebel” today prompts the notion that dying early might have been a terrific career move.

Dean’s performances in each film are certainly competent, but were unquestionably marred by Methody acting schtick that was considered at the time the mark of a truly serious actor. There is a self-indulgent, almost infantile aspect to Deans’s acting, particularly in “Rebel,” that’s off putting. Some contemporary viewers might react by giving his character — and perhaps Dean himself — a swift kick in his pants with the admonition, Grow up!

Okay, we had our say. Now it’s our readers’ turn. We received at least five lengthy missives from readers (thank you!) expressing various views of Dean’s ability as an actor and mostly taking us to task on many points.

So today and tomorrow, we’ll run these reader emails — and then (promise) take a break from debating Dean.

From Greece, we received this email from Dimitris Arnoutis-Oikonomakis:

Who would tell him to grow up? Tom Cruise? Brad Pitt? Johnny Depp? JuliaRoberts? Probably John Wayne but he’s dead. Or, Clint Eastwood but he’s talking at chairs these days. We live in a post-modern age when men are metrosexual and vulnerable, and youth is idolized and prolonged, so his performance is not only enduring the test of time but is more contemporary than ever.

Maybe some modern parents do understand kids these days. But this society doesn’t understand its denizens which are forever kids and multiply day by day. There is something weird and dark within us all behind closed curtains. Households can be living hell and Dean brought it all out there. (And with) with ancient tragedy ”pathos” regardless of actor studio method. Several French legendary directors like (Jean-Luc) Godard or (Francois) Truffault also considered him an acting genius.

I also think it IS hard to acknowledge he was a superb actor because his acting is more like the voice in our head. His gestures express what we often feel but not dare express. His movies move us in a way (that is) somewhat disturbing. I haven’t watched them for decades because I’m afraid of letting the repressed teenager out of his cage now (turning 35 in a couple of weeks).

That is my point of view I hope my arguments were legit.

Not only legit, Dimitris, but most welcome.

We’ll finish out today with this from Jules:

I think that James Dean really was a great actor, and he had an extremely rare gift. As a teenager, I can relate to (his) characters in “Rebel” and “East of Eden” so well. I understand why teenagers went so crazy for him in the ’50s.

There’s still a good amount of teenage angst amongst us kids these days, and James Dean movies still resonate with us. I love Marlon Brando and other actors from the ’50s but there’s a vulnerability that James Dean brings to his movies that no one else can pull off.

Just my opinion, but I don’t think those three movies would have been the same without him.

Last week we said that Deborah Kerr and Irene Dunne were tied at five nominations and no wins in the Best Actress Category of The Academy Awards. We quickly learned we were wrong.

A new correspondent to our blog who calls himself Melodramaboy wrote: Deborah Kerr was in fact nominated six times for Best Actress Oscar. She should have won for her superb Aussie drover’s wife in ‘The Sundowners’.

Disgracefully, she was not even nominated for her brilliant performances as Sister Clodagh in ‘Black Narcissus’, Hannah Jelkes in ‘The Night of the Iguana’ and one of cinema’s greatest triumphs, Miss Giddens in ‘The Innocents’. Fully expecting Deborah to be nominated for the latter film, columnist Joe Hyams credited her with her 7th nomination.

It didn’t happen, and Deborah said : ‘If I can’t win one without begging, then I dont want one at all.’ Ironically, in the only national Oscar poll conducted in Australia by the long-defunct magazine ‘New Screen News’, Aussies voted Deborah a 1964 Oscar for ‘The Night of the Iguana’.

Her Lifetime Achievement Oscar in 1993 was long-overdue, and she was awarded two of the longest standing ovations in Oscar history. Frail and terrified, Deborah gave a speech which was elegant, gracious, generous and supremely moving, intending it to be her public ‘farewell’. Her cinematic legacy is incredibly rich, full of beautifully subtle work. Never has an Oscar been more deserved.

We couldn’t agree with you more. And thanks for keeping us on our toes.

To set the record straight Kerr was nominated in 1949 for Edward, My Son, in 1953 for From Here to Eternity, in 1956 for The King and I, in 1957 for Heaven Knows, Mr.Allison, in 1958 for Separate Tables, and in 1960 for The Sundowners.

To Joe’s mind the most unusual and interesting of these performances is as SpencerTracy’s wife in Edward, My Son. If you haven’t seen this old classic, try and do so. You’ll be surprised at her performance AND Tracy’s.

Recently we’ve been discussing stars who never even received an Academy Award nomination. Some of our readers commented that the biggest overlooked star on the receiving end of Oscar injustice was Edward G. Robinson.

Regular correspondent Mike Sheridan states the theme: (Robinson)is a particular favorite of mine, he truly was an honest and noble guy. I think he put his heart and soul into his roles, and even though he’s remembered most for his gangster roles, I liked him in real world parts too like “Our Vines Make Tender Grapes.”

Reader Wyatt Kingseed states his case: I agree Edward G. Robinson is the single worst omission for never having been nominated. Ridiculous.

The Lady Eve writes: At least EGR was given an honorary Oscar – apparently he knew he had been voted the award but died before that year’s Academy Awards ceremony (hopefully the shock that he was finally being recognized didn’t contribute to his demise).

But what about the men and women who continually DID receive nominations and still were denied the Oscar?

Hello Everybody. MR. Joe Morella and MR. Frank Segers back again. MRS. NormanMaine is consoling the late Judy Garland who portrayed her so brilliantly but still lost the Award.

Garland had two nominations in her 30 year career. Peter O’Toole, as most people know, holds the record for the most nominations without a win. Eight.

Richard Burton is close behind with seven. Burton is no longer with us, but O’Toole, Albert Finney (with five) and Mickey Rooney (with four) still have a shot (maybe).

On the female side Irene Dunne and Deborah Kerr are tied with five nominations (and no wins) each. Greta Garbo (pictured above), Barbara Stanwyck and Roz Russell each had four. One of our favorites, Eleanor Parker, had three nominations but it was her bad luck to be competing in very tough races.

And what about those great character actors competing for Oscars in the Best Supporting category?

Thelma Ritter had six nominations, SIX. Agnes Moorehead had four and AngelaLansbury three with no wins. Arthur Kennedy leads the men with five nods, ClaudeRains had four nominations and Clifton Webb had three chances. All of them deserved an Oscar.

But then again, Peter Lorre was never even recognized with a nomination much less a lifetime achievement citation.

A few days ago we ran a blog about the death of Patty Andrews. Since then Joe has been reminiscing a bit with Frank about a few facts he was privy to, and Frank decided we should share them with our readers.

Hello again. It’s Morella and Segers, your classic movie guys, back again. And although the Andrews Sisters aren’t really linked to classic movies, we just loved them, and think it’s possible that a talent such as theirs may never be seen again.

Joe had the opportunity a few years back to read Maxene Andrews autobiography. As far as we know it has never been published, but it should be. It really gave insight into a bygone era.

Harmonies such as those produced by Patty, Maxene and LaVerne could only come from people who had known each other intimately and practiced non stop (think of other sister acts, The Boswells, The MacGuires, The Lennons, The Kings— Brother acts, The Mills Brothers, The Everlys — or the duo of Simon and Garfunkle, who grew up almost as brothers).

Today the music business relies on technology to produce that sound.

But besides the distinctive harmonies they produced — oldest sister LaVerne sang contralto, middle sister Maxene was the soproano and youngest sibling Patty the mezzo-soprano — The Andrews Sisters had qualities none of those other acts had.

That is, the ability to move gracefully in unison, dance and display an arch comedic touch. It was almost as if they could parody themselves. This is evident in their films. Go on You Tube and see most of their musical numbers from their films.

Yes, like alot of siblings, they argued. They had very controlling parents and La Verne often sided with Mom and Pop against Maxine and Patty. Then they began arguing about money. This came about because early on they’d signed with a manager, Lou Levy, and agreed to spilt their earning equally, each taking 25%. Later on Maxine and Lou married, which means they were getting 50% and LaVerne and Patty only 25% each. They, naturally felt it should be one third each. The Levys disagreed.

Even after the group split, then reunited, they held grudges about money. And long after LaVerne’s death, when Maxine and Patty were on Broadway in the hit show OverHere, disagreements about money affected their career. The show was set to tour but the sisters argued about salaries, Maxine’s husband sued the producers and the deal flopped.

Joe saw that show, both the prototype L.A. production which starred only Patty, and the full blown Broadway production which starred Patty and Maxine. The show was a piece of fluff and would have bombed except for the Sisters’ drawing power and the fact that every night after the play they would perform a complete concert of their hits.

Somehow they managed to change the harmony so they sounded exactly as they had when La Verne was with them.

One other interesting tale about Patty Andrews. She had a fierce temper. Her first husband was Marty Melcher, who was their agent and road manager. By 1949 Marty saw that Patty’s career was waning, and he turned his interest to an up and coming star by the name of Doris Day.

One night Doris’ neighbors were treated to the sight and sound of Patty Andrews as she battered Doris’ front door with a baseball bat while shouting epithets about Day stealing her husband.

Patty was probably lucky to lose Marty (he and Doris eventually married) before he squandered her fortune as he later did with Day’s.

The list is long for those who haven’t won an Oscar. But through the years, who have been the biggest and brightest stars who were passed over?

Hello, everybody. Joe Morella and Frank Segers, your classic movie guys, dwelling today on the victims of one of life’s great injustices — first-rank performers snubbed by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

In the 1950s and early sixties one of the biggest box office stars was MarilynMonroe. Although she gave some incredible performances in films such as Some Like It Hot and The Misfits, she was always considered somehow a studio-manufactured sexpot beneath Oscar consideration.

Others in the top ten box office list of the 50s who were ignored were Randolph Scott (he was very popular in Westerns then) and the comedy team of DeanMartin and Jerry Lewis. Both had the misfortune of starring in genres, westerns and comedies, that the Academy rarely took seriously.

Comedy teams were often big box office but got little recognition by critics or the Academy. For example, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello were top ten box office draws throughout the 40’s and 50’s. But Oscar-worth performers? Forgettaboutit.

Ditto Betty Grable, she of the million-dollar legs who became World War II’s most popular pinup. Aside from one dramatic turn in I Wake Up Screaming, she was in frothy musical comedies, not a favorite genre of Academy voters.

Even in the 1930s, three of the top ten box office draws were ignored by the Academy. Child star Shirley Temple (though she did receive an honorary baby Oscar), comedian Will Rogers, and figure skating star Sonja Henie. Yet, there is no question that all three were in various ways very big stars.

And, of course, one of the TOP box office draws of all time, who made the list in the 40s and 50s, Bob Hope, was never nominated and made it a focal point of his comedy act for decades.

She was never really “an actress.” Her movie acting credits number less than 20, and all of them are in musical contexts.

Rosemary Clooney (perhaps best known today as George’s aunt)was a superb singer, though, with career parallels to another marginal actor, the immensely gifted vocalist by the name of Bing Crosby.

Hello, everybody. Joe Morella and Frank Segers, your classic movie guys, here to tell you that Rosemary’s legacy as a singer — and in perhaps one instance as an actress — lives on nicely today.

She is still a remarkably “contemporary” singer to have come out of the gimmicky musical decade that was the 1950’s. (Can the same be said of Frankie Laine?)

Rosemary grew up in the Southern Ohio-Kentucky area, and began professionally singing with younger sister Betty on Cincinnati radio station WLW in 1941 at the age of 13. After high school, she sang with various bands including that of Tony Pastor’s.

Those of you of a certain age will immediately recall her hit solo recordings of the early-to-mid Fifties: Come On A My House (which Clooney not-so-privately disliked), Half AsMuch, Hey There and This Old House.

Her musical popularity was such that Paramount Pictures rushed her into a trio of movies including The Stars Are Singing and Here Come The Girls (with Bob Hope and TonyMartin) in 1953 and a musical western titled Red Garters a year later (Rosemary getting top-of-title star billing) with Jack Carson.

At about this time, Clooney married actor-director Jose Ferrer, the first of their two marriages (1953 to 1962 the first time; 1963 to 1967 the second). The couple had five children.

It was 1954’s White Christmas opposite Crosby that remains Clooney’s movie signature. She and Vera-Ellen play sisters who get involved with Army buddies Crosby (and DannyKaye) in a remote winter resort. The director was Michael Curtiz (Casablanca) and Paramount used the occasion to unveil its VistaVision wide screen presentation.

Clooney was always in awe of Crosby, 25 years her senior. Both vocalists in their own ways were aware that their musical interests and abilities were not confined to Hollywood musicals or period pop tunes. Their best work was found most often in jazz contexts, when both could unbutton and let loose.

Crosby, for example, recorded a lusty, unforgettable St. Louis Blues with the DukeEllington Orchestra in the 1930’s. (No The Bells of St. Mary’s sanctimony here.) Ellington always had immense respect for Crosby’s abilities. He also knew that Clooney was pretty good in her own right.

So it wasn’t coincidental that she found herself in a Los Angeles studio recording Blue Rose: Rosemary Clooneyand Duke Ellington and his Orchestra for Columbia Records in 1956. The process was interesting in that the Ellington band had earlier laid down instrumental tracks in a New York studio, while Clooney later performed to the pre-recordings on the West Coast (Clooney’s and Ellington’s schedules did not mesh, obviously).

It’s not a stretch to say that listening to the completed album, as Frank does often, will provide a Clooney as you’ve never heard her before. The songs, almost all Ellington compositions, are incomparable. Clooney sings them with greatest ease and assurance.

According to the album’s original liner notes (contained in the current CD reissue), Clooney was the perfect choice to sing the Ellington songs the way Duke likes them sung. Her long experience as a band singer, her admiration for Ellington and his music, and the special sort of supercharged satin in her voice all qualified her more than any other singer to make this unusual album.

Blue Rose: Rosemary Clooney and Duke Ellington and his Orchestra — seek it out. You won’t be disappointed.

On Jan. 30, the last of The Andrews Sisters, Patty Andrews, (center) died at the age of 94. It marked the end of an era.

Hello Everybody. Joe Morella and Frank Segers, your classic movie guys, here today to reflect on the legacy of The Andrews Sisters and their considerable influence on American pop culture.

Their biggest hits were on records and Juke Boxes. Do kids today even know what Juke Boxes were? (To see one used for powerful dramatic effect in one of our favorite classic movies, check out the finale of 1950’s The Asphalt Jungle directed by John Huston.)

Today music is downloaded directly onto I Pods and I phones, but in the 30s, 40s, and 50s if you wanted to hear a song and couldn’t wait for the next time it was played on the radio, you bought the disc for your collection, or went to a place which had a Juke Box, usually a candy store, drug store or bar.

Those quaint machines held the hit records of the day and for a nickel (6 for a quarter) you got to hear the song of your choice. And from 1937 through the 50s those songs were often sung by the Andrews Sisters. By one count, they recorded upwards of 400 songs and sold an astounding 80 million records.

They made movies as well — about a dozen low budget quickies at Universal from 1940 through 1944, and bigger productions later. These are hardly classic titles, but they certainly provided entertainment for wartime audiences. Enjoy the sisters in Hollywood Canteen or — one of their best performances — with their pal Bing Crosby in 1947’s The Road to Rio (costarring Bob Hope and DorothyLamour).

In that film they demonstrate not only their unique harmony, but the fact that they could dance move and in unison. The trio and Bing sing You Don’t Have to Know the Language, and it’s a fitting title because in any language the sisters made an impact.

Their first hit song was 1937’s Bei Mir Bist Du Schon, an old Yiddish song. Their rendition of Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree With Anyone Else But Me, became an anthem of War World II soldiers.

Patty, Maxene and La Verne. Everyone knew them by their first names, but only if they were together. Never mind that they didn’t always get along, and thanks to continual quarrels about money and other matters, they did not perform as a group in later years. The sad fact is that now they’re all gone.

Luckily, because the Andrew Sisters they made films (17 in all), we have a record of them at their peak. So, we can fully understand why they had the impact they did.

“You’ll go to that ceremony tonight if we have to put you in a straightjacket.”

Hello, everybody. Joe Morella and Frank Segers, your classic movie guys, here today to reveal that many (make that most!) of the performers who have won Academy Awards suffer through the experience — the buildup, the uncertainty, the self-doubts — in a combination of raw terror and emotional exhaustion.

Even though the professional rewards are great and careers generally flourish as a result of an Oscar nod, the process leading up to that big big Awards ceremony was or is, for many actors, sheer torture. There are few more articulate expressions of this malaise than in the 1974 autobiography, Ray Milland: Wide-Eyed in Babylon.

Milland was a working actor without great artistic pretensions who developed into a big star. He did not harbor acting aspirations as Reginald Truscott-Jones, born in rural Wales in 1905. For much of his early life he gave serious thought to making a career out of the military, specifically the cavalry since Milland early on developed into an excellent horseman.

He sort of fell into acting — read his book to discover just how — and never felt quite secure in his abilities in his early movies both in England and in Hollywood. He never forgot being singled out and cruelly chastised once by a rude director in front of an entire movie crew.

He also recalls how impressed he was as a fresh immigrant in the early Thirties by the sight of the Hollywood lights as seen from a perch atop Sunset Boulevard. He was told then that the sight “belonged” to Ramon Navarro, the Mexican-born MGM star who reigned at the time as Hollywood’s premier leading man.

Milland was a real workhorse, and appeared in more than 70 productions of all stripes at MGM and at Paramount (his home for two decades) by the mid-Forties when director BillyWilder cast him as dipsomaniac writer Don Birnam in The Lost Weekend. (See photo above.) By this time Milland began to take himself more seriously as an actor.

When the picture (largely shot with hidden cameras on the streets of New York) was completed, Milland’s performance as the alcoholic writer on a weekend binge was getting noticed. The actor was approached one day by a studio technician:

The sound department ran a rough cut of “Weekend” Saturday night, just checking the sound track. I wanna tell you something. You’re going to be nominated for an Academy Award. You can’t miss.

Milland’s response was typical of him: I gave him a quizzical look and told him to stop kidding around. The technician wasn’t kidding, and proposed a substantial bet giving the actor fifty to one odds that he would not only be nominated but actually win an Oscar. Your trouble is that you’re afraid to think about it.

But think about it Milland certainly did. The next three months were absolute hell. I was working but I wasn’t really there, the actor wrote.

Then came, finally, the morning the Oscar nominations were announced with the results splashed across the Los Angeles papers. And sure enough, there was Milland’s picture among those of the best actor nominees. Then I burst into tears. It was March, 1946. I was thirty-nine years old. The next four weeks were a phantasmagoria that brought me to the point of almost hating (Hollywood).

Milland decided NOT to attend the Oscar ceremonies. He told his wife, Mal, on the morning of the big day that I couldn’t face it and made up my mind not to attend. That did not go down well with his spouse. (She and Milland were married for 54 years until his death at 81 of lung cancer.)

With a look as cold as a Canadian nun, she said — what is printed at the top of this blog.

Upon departing a triumphant Oscar ceremony, Milland ordered his chauffeur to go out Sunset to the bridlepath and stop near Hillcrest. I got out, and with the Oscar in my hand, I …looked down at the lights (of Hollywood).

They seemed very bright that night. After a few minutes, I quietly said, “Mr. Navarro. Tonight they belong to me.”